


Love hunts me down

by Roxie Ann (pluvial_poetry)



Category: Vampire Academy & Related Fandoms, Vampire Academy Series - Richelle Mead
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/F, Femslash, Oral Sex, Vampires, Yuletide 2014, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:05:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluvial_poetry/pseuds/Roxie%20Ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose is a realist. She knew immediately what it took Lissa two days and a dizzy spell to even acknowledge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love hunts me down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grlgoddess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grlgoddess/gifts).



"Alyssa Draper?" Lissa asks, tilting her new ID toward the light as Rose finishes unpacking her groceries into the fridge. One-stop shopping at their local corner store. Milk, eggs, and fake IDs. "Do I look like an Alyssa Draper?"

"Well, no one is hunting for an Alyssa Draper, so let's hope so." Rose says, grabbing a bottle of water, bumping the door closed with her hip. Lissa is still turning the ID over in her hand, uncertain in a way that hurts Rose to see. "Just be thankful. You could be an Ethel right now. That was an option I had."

That makes Lissa smile, her eyes brightening. "No one would ever believe I was an Ethel."

"What about me, do you think I can pull off Ethel?" Rose asks, striking a pose, a hand on her hip. Anything to keep Lissa smiling.

Lissa steps forward, sliding her ID into her pocket. She takes Rose's chin in her hands, tipping her face up, staring down into her eyes. "You definitely look like a Rose to me," she says, and there's no uncertainty in her voice now. 

*

Rose is a realist. She knew immediately what it took Lissa two days and a dizzy spell to even acknowledge. But trust a Moroi to try to talk her way out of common sense. "There must be another option,” Lissa argues. But Rose is the fighter, and she knows how to hit someone where they are vulnerable, how to put someone down and keep them there. 

“There isn’t. Unless you're planning on taking a bite out of Oscar,” Rose says, mostly just to lighten the mood. A Dragomir princess cannot subsist on animal blood alone. Even if she wasn’t the most soft-hearted Moroi in existence.

She’s already shaking her head. “Rose! I would never.”

“Then it has to be me. C'mon, Lis, what are you afraid of?” 

It’s the guardian in her. She can’t protect Lissa against it if she doesn’t know what’s coming. Although in this case, she could probably make an educated guess.

“Hurting you,” Lissa says, voice solemn. And there it is. 

Rose goes to her, kneels in front of her chair. From this angle, it’s even more obvious, the sunken cavities of her cheeks, the prominence of her clavicle. How quickly she deteriorates without blood. “You wouldn't. I trust you.”

It isn’t really Rose’s nature to back off from a fight she knows she has to and can win. So she says, “Besides, pain isn't really going to be a problem here, is it?” Just to get it out in the open.

Because neither of them would ever say the words, blood whore, but they’re both thinking it. Rose doesn’t have to be reading Lissa’s mind to know that. She also doesn’t have to say that it’s worth it, doing this for Lissa. Their bond. This is what Rose was born for. And Lissa can’t read Rose’s mind, but she has to know enough to see when it’s made up. 

“I suppose not. Still. I am sorry,” Lissa says, and she means it. Even as Lissa’s gaze catches hungrily on Rose’s throat, her hands start to shake as she moves the straps of Rose’s tank top and bra to the side. 

So Rose reaches out to hold her steady as Lissa leans in.

*

Lissa wakes up on a muffled scream every morning.

“You know what the best part of being teenage runaways is?” Rose asks, from where she’s still huddled under a pile of blankets. “Sleeping in.”

Lissa laughs unsteadily, tucking herself into Rose’s side. She’s pretty cuddly for a Moroi.

“What were you dreaming about?” Rose asks.

Lissa shakes her head, her face pale and her lips trembling. “I can’t remember.” 

Not that she needs to tell Rose about her nightmares. Since Rose pretty much lived it with her. But if she doesn’t want to talk about it, then all Rose needs to do is hold her close, and stroke her hair. That’s easy enough. They lie quietly, and Rose thinks that Lissa might actually be dozing a little. At least until her stomach starts rumbling.

Rose rolls onto her side, shifting Lissa so that they lie face to face. “You know what would help you sleep? A full stomach.”

“Rose,” Lissa says, reproachfully. If she had her way she would wait until she was literally faint from hunger before she would admit that she needed to feed. Good thing it wasn’t up to her.

Rose squirms until they are pressed flush against each other, their knees slotting together, and she closes her eyes. “Shh, don’t wake me up, I’m sleeping.”

She keeps her breaths deep and even, even as Lissa bites down.

For all the cracks that get thrown around about blood whoring, you would think that the school would be a little more explicit about how addictive the process was. How good it feels. Like the fog of pain pills, the warmth of being wrapped up in bed with your best friend, and jolt of the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

Not that Rose ever thought the whore part of the phrase was a metaphor, because the Moroi could be shockingly literal, but it was still a surprise the first time. How the drag of Lissa’s mouth on her neck, the spill of her blood onto Lissa’s tongue made her wet.

She’s used to it now. Mindlessly grinding against Lissa’s leg, because that’s all it takes. She’s coming between one breath and the next, moaning into her pillow.

She opens her eyes to find Lissa staring down at her, a ring of blood around her frowning mouth. “I think it might be wrong. How much I like this,” Lissa says.

Rose rolls her eyes. “If you’re wrong, I’m wrong.”

She pushes Lissa down onto her back and climbs on top of her. She kisses Lissa, sharing the taste of copper and salt, because they share everything.

“I like it too,” Rose whispers against Lissa’s lips, because it’s true.

*

Rose throws a piece of popcorn at their shitty, tiny tv, hitting the pouting fictional vampire brooding over his human girlfriend on the screen. “Why are we watching this? Like we don’t get enough of pale douchebags in real life?”

“We’re enjoying your night off from work,” Lissa says. Her head is pillowed on Rose’s lap, her breath warm against Rose’s leg, where her skirt has ridden up.

“So let’s get to the actual enjoyment part then,” Rose says, turning the movie off. Lissa’s eyes are closed when she looks back down, and her breaths have gone shallow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Lissa shakes her head in denial, opening her eyes and smiling. “You smell good.”

Rose frowns a little, tapping Lissa’s nose with her finger. “Liss, you know the best part of the normal teenage movie experience?”

“No, what is it?”

“The snacks,” Rose says firmly. And she leans back, her skirt shoved up to the tops of her legs, the veins in her thighs on display.

Lissa’s eyes glaze slightly, and she licks her lips. “Just a taste then.”

She bites down on the meat of Rose’s thigh, but she’s true to her word, like always. The sting only lasts for a second before her mouth shifts and she’s using her tongue to flick open the folds of Rose’s cunt.

This part of the feeding is still kind of new to them. Strangely, this is also the part that Lissa seems to have the least issues about, even though here Lissa is, pale and pink and gold between Rose’s legs. And then there’s Rose, dark and rough, and she would worry that she was tainting Lissa, she would, except that Lissa is taking in deep breaths of her, and taking long, flat licks of Rose’s slick as it drips out over her tongue, like she can’t get enough and. And Rose could never deny her anything.

Not that Rose is doing much of anything at this particular moment. It’s hard enough just to get air into her lungs, which seems a little more necessary and a little more impossible with each passing second and every move of Lissa’s mouth.

She presses sweet closed-mouth kisses right where Rose opens, where Rose is so wet. She feels it, liquid sticky on her thighs and on Lissa’s cheeks when she reaches down to stroke them. That motion seems like all the encouragement Lissa was waiting for. She gives Rose’s cunt another kiss, uses her tongue this time, light at first, then deeper. 

It’s not like Lissa is an expert at this or anything, but she’s enjoying it. God, she must be enjoying it, judging by the way her fingers dig into Rose’s skin, the way that she doesn’t even care that Rose’s slick is smeared over her face, the ends of her hair stuck in it and clinging to her face. 

When Rose comes, it feels like her body locks, her muscles beyond her control, that moment when the fight is lost for sure, and all she can do is gasp for air. Lissa doesn’t even pause, even with Rose’s thighs clinched around her head in what would otherwise be a death grip. That Moroi strength sure comes in handy because Lissa just holds Rose’s hips steady, and goes back for seconds.

Rose’s hands clench on couch cushions, and it's good that Lissa's grip is so tight, because Rose would be failing at trying not to hump against Lissa’s tongue, trying not to press too hard or far, because this is new, because she doesn’t want to push this, even as she’s desperate for Lissa’s mouth on her, even as she sobs for it. It's not like she needs to worry though, Lissa isn’t close to finished with her. She folds Rose’s legs up and apart, one thrown over her shoulder so she can maneuver, her fingers soaked from where they have been cupped inside of Rose, and she keeps at it, licking and sucking, gentle little pulls of her mouth on Rose’s clit, tugging Rose along.

When Rose comes again, she shakes from the sucker punch of it. Lissa must feel it, around and inside of her, how her very foundation rocks. She has to feel it too.

Rose doesn’t want to move when it’s over. It’s only when Lissa hovers over her and looks at her like she might start apologizing for taking advantage of her that she manages to unslump, very slowly, and pull Lissa in close, and whisper, “Good?”

Lissa’s face is wet with slick, her mouth red and swollen, stained at the corner with a drop of dried blood that she missed, and Rose feels like a corrupting asshole, but she can’t help but hug her tighter. She just can’t seem to let go.

“You have no idea,” Lissa answers against her neck, insistent and low. And maybe it’s true, Rose has never felt certain kinds of hunger, but others... yeah, she might just know that feeling.

She smiles at Lissa, pulling back and wiping at her messy face with her sleeve, smoothing her hair as best she can. “Do I really taste that good?”

Lissa gives her a small smile in return, blue eyes gleaming. “Every bit of you.”

And Rose leans forward to see for herself.

*

They wouldn’t have had this at school. Not a Dragomir princess, and her low level teenage guardian. Even with their bond, the most they ever would have been was friends. 

Lissa is sleeping now, her hair sprawled over Rose’s pillow. Golden even without the touch of the early morning light that hasn’t yet began to creep across their room. 

They couldn’t have this at school.

One more reason to keep running.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://pluvial-poetry.tumblr.com/)


End file.
